


where the bolt of cupid fell

by Waywarder



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Established Relationship, Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns For Aziraphale (Good Omens), They/Them Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens), Trans Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:20:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28702071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waywarder/pseuds/Waywarder
Summary: When Crowley entered the bathroom, Aziraphale was on the floor.“Breathe, angel.”Aziraphale couldn’t. Not yet. Tears streamed quietly down his soft face, his arms clutched protectively around his own soft middle, his shoulders trembling slightly. Crowley brought a hand to one of those shaking shoulders, squeezing gently.“You have to breathe, Aziraphale, okay?”“Okay,” Aziraphale choked on the word, feeling more than a little pathetic. Nothing felt “okay.” And it should have. It should have felt wonderful and exciting and okay, but instead shame and fear and doubt coursed through him. On his knees in their little bathroom, fingers tearing into the little paper pharmacy bag in his lap.Crowley went down to their knees beside him, their strong, sure hand never leaving Aziraphale’s shoulder.A little human AU scene of Crowley helping Aziraphale through his first hormone injection. They take care of each other.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 129





	where the bolt of cupid fell

**Author's Note:**

> CW: needles, some doubt and fear around gender transition. Take care of yourself!

When Crowley entered the bathroom, Aziraphale was on the floor. 

“Breathe, angel.”

Aziraphale couldn’t. Not yet. Tears streamed quietly down his soft face, his arms clutched protectively around his own soft middle, his shoulders trembling slightly. Crowley brought a hand to one of those shaking shoulders, squeezing gently.

“You have to breathe, Aziraphale, okay?”

“Okay,” Aziraphale choked on the word, feeling more than a little pathetic. Nothing felt “okay.” And it should have. It should have felt wonderful and exciting and okay, but instead shame and fear and doubt coursed through him. On his knees in their little bathroom, fingers tearing into the little paper pharmacy bag in his lap.

Crowley went down to their knees beside him, their strong, sure hand never leaving Aziraphale’s shoulder.

“There’s no rush, you know,” Crowley murmured softly. “We can do this in the morning, if you’d rather. Sometime this weekend even.”

Aziraphale shook his head. “No. No. I want to try now.”

“How can I help?” Crowley asked, love and determination blazing in their eyes.

“Just stay with me?” Aziraphale turned his own wobbly blue gaze to meet Crowley’s. “Please?”

“Course, angel.”

Crowley slid down to sit cross legged beside Aziraphale as he drew in a deep, shaky breath and finally opened the little bag. 

“Can we watch the video again?” Aziraphale sniffed, trying his hardest to reclaim his excitement. He’d been shaking all day. He hadn’t slept the night before, he’d hardly breathed on the ride to and from the pharmacy, and, now, as day slipped into night around them, Aziraphale couldn’t believe this tiny, gargantuan moment had finally arrived.

_“Which changes are you most excited about?” the doctor asked, smiling at him._

_“My voice,” Aziraphale admitted._

“What if I’m too late?” Aziraphale fretted for the six thousandth time as Crowley fiddled with their phone in an attempt to pull up the tutorial video.

“You got here, Aziraphale,” Crowley said kindly. “You got here at all and that’s amazing. You just be proud of yourself today and nothing else, yeah?”

“It’s hard to feel proud,” Aziraphale’s voice cracked on the word. “I feel a little ridiculous.”

“Well, then, I’ll be proud of you for now, okay? Until you’re ready?”

Aziraphale turned his head to place a soft kiss on Crowley’s exposed shoulder. Their tank top strap had slipped down, revealing warm, smooth skin. 

“I love you,” Aziraphale said into that skin.

“And I love you,” Crowley promised. “Now let’s do this and I’ll make you some cocoa, okay?”

“With the big marshmallows?”

“With the big marshmallows.”

Aziraphale closed his eyes. The tile floor of the bathroom was hard on his knees, but he wasn’t ready to get up. He didn’t feel much like confronting the mirror tonight. He worried that seeing his own face would just stir up old woes of _Am I doing the right thing? Oh, it’s not so bad as I think it is, is it? I can handle it. I’m making it all up. I’m being overdramatic. I’m not enough. What if I’m not enough?_

“I’m so fucking proud of you,” Crowley said again, snaking an arm around Aziraphale’s waist, hugging him close. 

Aziraphale felt fresh tears pricking at his eyes. It was an overwhelming sort of evening. He knew he would have arrived here eventually-- he knew it, he knew it-- and he would have managed, but oh, how lovely to have brave, brilliant Crowley by his side tonight.

And last night and tomorrow night.

Crowley’s free thumb hovered over the “Play” button on their phone screen. “Ready, angel?”

Aziraphale nodded.

He really was.

_Play._

Together they watched the instructional videos, pulling each item out of the pharmacy bag and laying them with reverence upon the bathroom counter. Together they re-watched and re-watched the video on how to actually draw the medicine itself-- it was such a large syringe and such a small dosage. When Aziraphale pushed up his pajama top to reveal his belly, Crowley twisted and leaned forward to gently kiss the flesh there. When Aziraphale finally, finally, finally pierced his abdomen with the small needle, Crowley nuzzled against his jawline, breathing encouragement and love.

_I love you I’m proud of you I love you._

“Did I do it?” Aziraphale asked, relief instantly flooding his system as he drew the needle away. “It was so quick!”

“You did it, angel,” Crowley grinned. “How do you feel?”

Aziraphale groaned a little as he slid his legs out from under him and rubbed feeling back into his knees. “I feel…”

_How do you feel?_

Aziraphale stood, wincing slightly at the creak in his knees. Crowley followed him, never giving up on some form of contact with Aziraphale’s body. Once they were both standing, Aziraphale wound his arms around Crowley’s neck and pressed their bodies together. Pressed the tiny wound on his belly up against the person who loved him most in the world. Who loved him no matter what. 

_How do you feel?_

“I feel hopeful,” Aziraphale finally answered. “I feel relieved and terrified and excited and curious and sad and happy. I didn’t know I could feel so much.”

Crowley swooped forward to kiss him. Aziraphale sighed into it, willing some of his anxieties to disappear beneath the certainty of Crowley’s lips. 

“Dearest, handsomest of all angels,” Crowley drawled as they pulled away. “May I have the honor of fixing you the grandest, marshmallow-est hot cocoa this world has ever seen?”

Aziraphale smiled at that. “Yes, please. Thank you.”

Crowley gave a little salute before turning to saunter out of the bathroom. Aziraphale watched them go, would always watch them go, would always thrill at the promise of their return. Aziraphale put a hand to the counter to steady himself before slowly turning his face in the direction of the mirror.

And there he was. Just as he always had been. The round cheeks, the smooth face.

“I am enough,” Aziraphale promised his reflection, bringing a hand to his stomach. 

Because one day there would be hair in places there hadn’t been before. There might be broader shoulders and a different face and yes, that deeper voice Aziraphale craved. And it would be wonderful and terrifying and all the other myriad things he was feeling.

But he was already Aziraphale. He always had been and he always would be.

He was enough.

With one last gentle smile to himself, Aziraphale flicked off the bathroom light and strode off in the direction of love and happiness and hot cocoa with the biggest marshmallows.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This little piece is based on my own experience last week of doing my first testosterone injection. I didn't have Crowley with me, but my roommate did help! I haven't been able to think about anything else-- including my writing-- so I thought I might work through some of my feelings via my beloved Aziraphale. 
> 
> You are good. You are enough.


End file.
